16 November 2012

Notes - The Dead - 6 / a lesson


You are at the China City Buffet on Mason-Montgomery Road waiting for Rich G. We begin with Dead-6 today. Go ahead and set up the documents. - Amorella

         1405 hours. Great lunch! Both Rich and Bill were there - great discussion on politics, cars, family, engineering and physics.

         You read over Dead-5 and wonder what Dead-6 is going to be about. Insert conclusion of D-5 below:

** **

. . . I sit quietly above the turbulence in my ever-rebellious human heart. Deadanliving it is not so easy crossing from soul to mind no matter what or who the heart's bridge be. How much more difficult would it be for the living who are not so human as we?
         Solidification. The act of the human spirit become stone in mindansoul freezing the heart to calm so it might thaw in reasonable contemplation. This is how Merlyn sees this event in his heartansoulanmind; no more real than imagination becoming thought and thought becoming the evaporation of wonderment.
         Consideration becomes the pretty package to open and see the present, the here and now of an existential Merlyn unbound and ready to tie the binds cover to cover all within the human margins of error.
         Ezekiel, a heartansoulanmind I remember singularly. There are other deadanliving friends such as myself who have danced in a rebellion or two above and below the Great Many-Named River's Divide. Deadanliving or Living, to tap a friend's soul is to tap the echoes of a beating heart and [its] considering mind.

** **

         You could change this last sentence to: ". . . echoes of the beating heart and its considering mind," for clarity. More to the point, Merlyn need to be brought down a peg or to. Who better to do this but Mother.  - Amorella

         1757 hours.  Supper at Smashburgers and a stop at Kroger's on Tylersville for two or three pie crusts for making dessert on Thanksgiving. As I put the MacAir up for work I had an inkling of the conversation with Mother but I am not sure where it is going to go.

         You note the quarter moon up and off your left shoulder and the crisp air and the raspberry color of the late dusk sky. Church bells (next door to the east) in the background as the clock strikes six. The Salvation Army is out in force with the bell ringing and people have a Friday night hustle about them both going in and leaving this popular local Kroger grocery on the west side of Westchester Township in Butler County, Ohio.

         I thought you were going to say the home of John B. our illustrious local boy who makes good as Speaker of the House.

         Why need I since you say it for me? - Amorella

         Now I am stuck in the politics and the words leave me. . . .

         You are finished with the television for the night. Carol has gone upstairs to read and now there is time to do some writing. Go to Book Four. - Amorella

         I found a scene 3 of chapter 5 that may be useful as background but Mother is not involved. (2200)

         Do not drop it in here. Drop it in the new document and we will make short work of it. - Amorella

         This is just cut and paste, Amorella. I cannot imagine how this will work here. . . . I can hardly believe this, as I read more closely I see "Elsewhere". What a jump from a wormhole to altered consciousness. Now, no one will see this association but me. The connection is a 'leap' not of faith but of intuition, a jump, quantum-like from one part of my brain to another part. But then, what else? This is all me, my brain, my mind that is the connection. What else? Nothing more, nothing less. Such a pleasant subtle humor, Amorella.

         Let's finish this up with a word from Mother. - Amorella

         2235 hours. I have completed The Dead - 6 at least for now. It appears to make sense but I will know better after completed The Dead - 7.

         Add and post, boy. - Amorella
***
Dead - 6 (draft for now)

         Merlyn soon found himself slipping into dreamtime while lying between the rock and great Oak. On introspection he thought, being dead has a pleasant side, no aches or pains unless I want them. All sensory appears psychosomatic. I think in my native Celtic tongue but when I want to be heard I appear to be immediately understood by others I am in presence with. Irish, Latin, Greek, English, Norse are my in my resume. Languages are now my forte.

          Therein Merlyn's mind glided naturally into, Ogham, the Celtic alphabet, which has letters based on the names of trees as the trees are shaped with reasonably forked branches. Kenning-like poetic thoughts produced the alpha-an-beta, and in this poesy not all the tree letters are known to humankind, never were, and in that lays wisdom in the Mystery of the Letters. Merlyn thought, once alive, now dead, I sound the letters and still they are heard by the Living through their eyes alone. In this sounding sense of reason the silent ears of the Dead are but whispering eyes to the living.

          A lot of people affected my living -- family, friends, acquaintances, and perceived enemies. People are not an indifference to me. Living or Dead each is a piece on the crystal board. Each is in herorhis own squared area of consciousness or lack of it. All have a shared square area of the same heavenly blue sky randomly decked with clouds of similar fluff.

          Two friends float above the rest within my soul. Why? I have never known because some friends are older, better known and deeper within. Both at once were living druidesses who snaked and coiled their way around my very soul.

          Brigit of Iona was a human reincarnate of the earlier Brigit, who was thought by some to be a goddess. She was not. She was a female sage, a physician and a smith as was her druidic father, who also had been a physician and a smith. I was placed to dangle on the bottom of her moon silver charm bracelet. She stirred my fiery passions into her hot and throaty caldron and had the summary of my Celtic faith for an immediate dinner.

          The second was Vivian who designed a silver and golden brooch to capture my reason with the heavy breathing in and out through her tangling net of erotic charms. A crystallized madness she became in my imagination alone. I never touched her nor her me. No need to touch when she was already a haunt beneath my boneless bag. I was a sorry sack of skin with Vivian.

          Both women were equally a damnable pleasant witchery. Priestess Brigit and Priestess Vivian druidically placed me, Merlyn, a once shining jewel, in a rolled leathery piece of ancient pre-Celtic phylactery. Both druidesses became leather strapped, amulet-like pistons in the youth of my flamed mortal earthly engine. Scroll-like I was wound and unwound from mind to soul and soul to heart. And, thus bodiless, I was driven into an inconceivable madness while making sorceries’ choice. Unthinkingly, I chose to be in a spiritual magic with both women at once.

          Merlyn peered into the elementary considerations of his being included in the highest first order of druidic shamans. The same druidic hierarchical setting in which he would also place Brigit and Vivian. He immediately determined his chess queen’s position to be off the board, a Betweener; no one would question this. He smiled; no one Living or Dead can legitimately question this because I am Elsewhere. I am off the Board. I am consciousness outside and before the Creation of the Tree of Thought and Light.

 I, Merlyn, exist.
 Still
 Within
 Silence
 Non-Begotten
 ...BE-ING… 
Non-Begotten
 Silence
 Within
 Still
 I, Merlyn, do not exist.  Yet, Here I Am, Thinks Merlyn
 and echoes
 Yet, Here I Am, Thinks Merlyn
 and echoes
 Yet, Here I Am, Thinks Merlyn  
Heart and Echo
 and
 Soul
 and
 Mind
 At Once Shredded
 and
 At Once Re-stitched
 Again
 and
 Again
 and
 Again 

         'And, yet again, Merlyn,' interrupted black-balled Glevema near the corner pocket of his mind. This is your Grandest Mother my child. Guardian you are of the new Gate of the Dead. You move your mindanheartansoul first thinking of whom your best friends are in this moment on your soul, the small quaint classroom where heart and mind sit. Mind your p's and q's boy when choosing an alphabet of proper names to lovingly rouse.

745 words
***

         It is difficult to accept this scene in that I did little or no writing tonight.

         Let this be a lesson to you boy. Now, post. - Amorella

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